Thronum Excelsum
by Kawaii Snowdrop
Summary: "An army of citizens is approaching," Izana's voice is clipped, the under layers of anger filling the room, "I want you to leave the country." (Mini-chaptered, darker AU fanfic)
1. Chapter 1

_1\. Schwellenangst - the fear of crossing a threshold to embark on something new._

* * *

The hall is quiet, the only sound the ticking from a large ornate clock in the corner. Soft warm light blankets the room, dispelling the darkness from outside, but Zen still feels an icy chill shiver down his spine.

"Lord brother?" He chokes out, the sword on his hip feeling heavier than the day he was given it, a lifetime ago when it had been taller than himself. Behind him Mitsuhide and Kiki audibly stiffen, both as shaken up as he is.

Prince Izana raises his head to look him in the eye, a foreign weariness tugging at his otherwise calm expression, "I want you to leave this country," he repeats.

He knows about the unrest stirring in the nearby countries, knows about the sudden spike in underground weapon dealing. Whatever is worrying his brother, is still a mystery however. "Why?" He asks, voice barely restrained into a respectful tone.

"An army of citizens is approaching," Izana's voice is clipped, the under layers of anger filling the room, "they've taken the head of Prince Raj of Tanburan already."

Shock reverberates through his body, but the first prince continues on before he can speak, "I am ordering you to escape this country, hide your identity and live as an ordinary citizen until a better political situation arises."

His fists clenches, "I want to fight."

"Then your death will be useless," his brother turns sharply away from him and stands facing the window that overlooked the palace grounds, towards the distant town, "as the second prince you have the duty to secure the future of this-"

"So you would have me abandon the kingdom in it's hour of need?" Zen speaks, voice tight with emotion, anger fuelling his words, "that's pathetic."

He hears Izana sigh, "I will do what I can for the citizens still loyal to the throne," he turns to walk to his little brother, stopping to look at his family for a final time, "you, however, have a different duty to uphold."

With only a small hint of hesitation he reaches out and ruffles Zen's hair, the first sign of affection shown in years, "go," he tells him, eyes cold but smile warm, "go, before the sun rises."

And Zen leaves, with the furling of his cape and the guilt inside thrumming in time to his heartbeat.


	2. Eleutheromania

_\- an intense desire for freedom_

* * *

Shirayuki peers out of the door wearily, listening to the angry shouts of the crowd outside. Hate filled sentences reaches her ears, and she backs away from them, towards the safety of the shop. _It can't last forever_ , she tells herself, _they have to stop sometime._

But it's been three weeks. Three weeks of avoiding the villagers and staying cooped up in the building; arranging then rearranging the depleting herb shelves, afraid to step foot outside. Three weeks since the citizens from Ayrith arrived, stirring up the townsfolk - and one week since they murdered Prince Raj and most of his subordinates.

It wasn't that she had liked him, in fact she thought he had been a vain and selfish royal. But still, nobody deserves to have their head stuck on a spike.

A harsh knock on the side of the shop startles her from her thoughts and with a steadying breath, she inches forwards to open the door fully. Her only visitors so far have been villagers as scared as her, timidly asking for treatment she's all too happy to give. The man here does not fit the description.

Standing at almost two feet above her, she shrinks under his gaze. The man himself is unfamiliar, but the glint in his eyes is not. He roughly pushes past her to observe the various plants she uses on a daily basis.

"How can I help?" Her voice is subdued, gaze directed towards her hands gripping her apron.

"We leave for Clarines tomorrow," the man interrupts, not bothering to glance at her thin frame, "we will need a herbalist to treat our men."

She does not want to leave. She does not want to join the revolution that has caused so many unnecessary deaths, "you want me?"

He leans over her, features stretched into a cruel smile, "you will join us?"

She can smell his rancid breath and steps back, shaking her head slightly, "...I-"

He grabs her wrist, halting her feeble retreat, pulls her closer till she's practically pressed up against him, till he can stare down at her intimidatingly, all traces of the smile gone, "you're either with us or against us, and those against us don't last long."

She believes this even as she struggles to get away, remembers the screams that haunt the night and the unbearable fires that have become a daily occurrence, "let me go."

"But hey," he carries on as if she hasn't spoken and runs his fingers through her hair, an oddity she now hates, "maybe we can have some fun with you."

"Let me go!" she kicks his shins and pushes against his chest, freeing herself with a jerk. He laughs and releases her, allows her to shepherd him out the door only to collapse against the back of it.

She needs to go. Anywhere is better than here.


	3. Viridity

\- _naive innocence_

* * *

The night is cold, but his horse is fast, generations of selective breeding gone into creating the best stallions in the country. He will have to set it free before long, however- as the animal is a sure sign he is from the castle. He will have to be careful from now on, with both his appearance and new backstory and is suddenly glad that Izana practically hid him in his chambers all these years.

"Do we have a destination?" he hears Mitsuhide ask, sending him spiralling into a web of thoughts. He knows his Kingdom well, after his tutored days spent pouring over decaying maps among other things of princely importance. _The mountains to the north are not ideal, considering the settlements there have shown independence from the throne. So have the villages to the east. Perhaps it is better to leave the country? But, that is where all the unrest is coming from in the first place_ , "Zen?"

"Wherever the wind takes us," he answers at length and adjusts the direction accordingly. If he strains his ears, he can still hear the march of feet of the extra patrol and the ringing voices of emergency commands. Despite the late hour, the castle is more alive than it usually is during the day. Something hard settles at the pit of his stomach, and his mouth tightens.

The landscape looms around them, drinking the light of the sky from a pearlescent goblet. Rolling hills merge with trees and foliage until the scenery is twisted and crooked in its silhouette, and he shudders but presses forward. Nothing but scary tales to scare simple minded children, that was all.

He's never ventured beyond the safety of the castle walls this far before, and quite frankly he doesn't think he's completely ready for this task. He remembers his sunny youth, filled with adventures that consisted of him avoiding his advisers and climbing trees in his finery. When Izana used to smile genuinely.

"We will have to change our appearances your Highness," says Kiki grimly, "your hair colour is far too recognisable."

"Perhaps the next village we come across will have the necessary supplies," Mitsuhide replies, "I believe we are coming close to the village of Greenwood."

Zen ducks his head so his hood falls further over his face, "you're right, we should focus on blending in for now."

They ride all night, only taking short breaks to let the horses rest. By the time they reach the village, blinks of sunshine are peaking from behind the surrounding mountains. The blissful sound of silence quietens Zen's racing mind and he breathes in the scent of burnt...

In a heartbeat he is on high alert, hand grasping the hilt of his sword. A sharp breeze ruffles his clothes and the trio inch forward. A pungent smell drowns everything else out.

Once he starts to look closer he notices how the shutters on one of the houses are hanging on by one hinge and how all the flowers in a garden have been trampled to shreds.

"They didn't," he hears Mitsuhide gasp but Zen's praying that they're mistaken, that this is all a misunderstanding of the highest level, that the village isn't so _quiet_ because of something horrible and unforgivable.

A raw sound of fury tears from his throat at the sight he couldn't prepare himself for. Piles of burnt, unrecognisable bodies fill the village square. Ash falls like snow.

"There's so many," Kiki comments, sadness lacing her words, "it's a massacre."

He wants to grieve the lives lost, wants to give each individual a burial and a funeral so that they will not go down in history as nameless casualties. He wants someone else to take charge, to reveal what is required of him and how to channel the anger boiling beneath the surface.

Unable to look at the sickening scene any longer Zen looks down and notices a blood smeared doll on the ground. He cradles it in his hands, noticing the careful stitching and button smile.

"We should move on," he says finally, guilt stinging his words, "there's nothing for us here."

He places the doll around some untarnished flowers, arranging them carefully around it so the blood is hidden. Then he hardens his heart and turns to face the sunrise.


	4. Fantods

_\- state of extreme anxiety or distress_

* * *

 _Run._

 _Left-right-left-right. Pause._

 _Run and don't look back._

 _Breathe, you're almost out._

 _Don't look back!_

She stumbles, crashing into the knotted undergrowth with a grunt. Her bag spills its contents into the compact earth: clothes and herbs and a picture of her grandparents. There wasn't enough food left in the house to make a proper meal, and it sits like a rock in her stomach. Her hands claw at the ground, scrambling to get her possessions back into the satchel. Her fingers brush against silky fabric and she resists the urge to bring the scrap against her face to smell her late mother's perfume; she can rely on her own strength for a little longer.

 _Faster, be faster_.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in her ankle - _Feverfew and a dash of White Willow Bark to reduce swelling and inflammation_ \- Shirayuki doggedly gathers herself together and begins to jog again. Gritting her teeth to keep from crying out - _no time to bind it so suck it up_ \- she forces herself on with determination she didn't know lay within herself.

She moves through the forest, albeit slower than before, but at least she's a good way beyond the village borders. It's further than any of other deserters have made. Even so, the ghosts of her former home chase her, haunting agonies of those she could not save filling her footprints. The pre-sunrise chill nips her skin but she needs to use the sleepy nature of her village to her advantage. If she can just get away to the next village to rest then she's safe for another day. Maybe she can warn them of what's coming.

A sharp cough splits the harried silence and a jolt of fear stabs her heart as she crashes into a tree. Pain shoots through her skull as she sinks to the vegetation below, biting her lip to keep her from crying out. Heavy footsteps crash behind her and the anxiety grows even as she throws her head up to open her airways and lessen the sound of her panicked breathing.

She's sure he's heard her, and her eyes burn even as she squeezes them shut. A snapped twig a couple of stone throws behind her makes the panic twist her stomach into knots. She has to get to the next village. She _has_ to; it's not only her life that's on the line.

It's suffocating, the fear, and a wild part of her still spinning from the impact wants to throw herself out from behind this hiding place because at least then this awful waiting to decide her fate would be over, and she _can't wait another second please-_

A _twang_ swiftly followed by a heavy thud startles her from her thoughts. Silence reigns for a few moments and the sudden realisation that she can no longer hear his heavy breathing only makes her heart race faster. The attacker was skilled enough to remain undetected, skilled enough to have probably heard her by now.

 _Make a break for it._

 _Do it now!_

Preparing to run again, head throbbing and ankle now swollen and stiff, her fingers scrape against the bark for a desperate second. With a gasp she launches herself away from the tree-

A knife presses against her throat and she stops so abruptly she chokes. An arm snakes around her waist to pin her arms by her sides. Hot breaths in her ear, knees almost trembling, everything spins out of focus.

"Are you one of the guards?" She whispers, leaning a fraction away from the blade.

"No," his voice is quiet, "what is your business here?"

He could be lying, he could not care, but she speaks around the lump in her throat anyway, "I have to warn them...p-please, I have to."

A tense standstill stretches the time painfully, and her frantic breathing fills the air. The man scarcely makes a sound.

"Hmm," he muses finally and the knife retreats. His other hand grips her arm to spin her around and the movement sends nausea spinning through her gut. The man has a scarf covering his face, but his eyes shine a golden yellow.

"You're injured," he says plainly, giving her a sweeping glance - gaze calculating.

"I'm an herbalist," she pleads, "please, let me go." Maybe it's the head trauma, but even so she's slightly appalled that's she's been reduced to begging of all things. The man's strange eyes narrow, but he releases his hold and sheaths his weapon.

"Are there any in your village still alive?"

The question surprises her, and it must show on her face because he adds roughly, "we're on the same side aren't we? Answer me."

"None that haven't joined the revolution by now," she says at length, although the words taste bitter. Her village is a shadow of what it used to be, childhood friends that weren't given even the dignity of a grave.

"I see," he looks tired for a second, eyebrows creasing and then he swings into the branches of a nearby tree with a bounding leap.

He meets her startled expression with a stare, though it seems less hostile than before, "safe travels, red hair."

With a barely more than a rustle, he melts back into the darkness, and a bizarre loneliness tugs at her heart. But she's been given a chance, and she has to go. The sky is streaked with pink and red, and time is running out - the pain can wait for a while longer.

So gathering up the dregs of her resolve and meagre belongings, she shakily manages to carry on.

Edit : I apologise for the formatting issues and am trying to fix them, but FanFiction always somehow makes them worse every time I try. Hopefully this website glitch will be resolved soon.


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